


love it when you look my way

by bbhyun



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Confused Jeon Wonwoo, Dorks in Love, Everyone Loves Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Jeon Wonwoo is Whipped, Kim Mingyu is a Good Friend, M/M, gyuhao observe from the side in amusement, some lighthearted fun, soonyoung has a crush and wonwoo takes forever to notice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:28:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27994524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbhyun/pseuds/bbhyun
Summary: It’s not funny in the least bit, but they laugh anyway, giddy with the high of beginnings and endings coming full circle, the unbridled joy of being in the company of someone you care about, and who cares about you.Wonwoo meets Soonyoung when he least expects to. Soonyoung's everything Wonwoo isn't, and it's okay, it's good, it's the best thing that could've happened to him.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi, Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 25
Kudos: 102





	love it when you look my way

_As the new year approaches, your favourite DJs set out across campus to ask our very own students a most pressing question: what are your new year resolutions? A simple question with many different answers. And so, dear listener, we have compiled the most common resolutions our students are hoping to stick to in the coming year._

_Perhaps one of your resolutions will be mentioned, perhaps one of those mentioned will now become one of yours. Here’s wishing all students a very happy new year, may you achieve all you hope to and may only good things come to you._

**5\. Party less.**

_You wouldn’t think this important enough to be a resolution, but it seems our students just love their nights out, don’t they?_

_It’s all fun and games until it’s not! Party safe, kids!_

As a general rule of thumb, all of Wonwoo’s problems can be traced back to a single Kim Mingyu. To be fair, it’s seldom Mingyu’s _fault_ , really, things just happen to him and have spillover effects on those around him. It’s both hilarious and unfortunate, since Wonwoo’s forced to be around Mingyu 24/7, seeing as Mingyu’s not only his roommate, but also basically his only friend. Hilarious, like last week, when Mingyu’s clumsy fingers sent his bowl of cereal skidding across the linoleum tiles of their kitchen, unfortunate when Wonwoo stepped in the milk puddle in his favourite fuzzy socks. See, simple problems like this, Wonwoo can accept with a laugh and file under vaguely interesting anecdotes to use as conversation starters.

Other times, being friends with the campus golden boy comes with actual problems that make Wonwoo want to curl up and rot in a corner. Which brings him to the issue at hand— it is the 31st of December and Wonwoo would much rather be bundled up in his blanket and fuzzy socks watching a movie, but _no,_ Kim Mingyu, the asshole, had shoved him out the door, muttering some bullshit about needing to get out there. And so, here he is, leaning against the wall of god-knows-whose house, sipping a plastic cup of revolting, spiked punch, while the fools he’s blessed to call his schoolmates are running wild and trashing said house. It is of some consolation, however, that Minghao has been keeping him company ever since they arrived. Wonwoo isn’t sure he’d still be tolerating this mess if not for him. It seems Mingyu isn’t completely awful, because if not for Mingyu he’d never have met Minghao, and Wonwoo would have been stuck alone on the sidelines of this shitty party, acting as if everything about him didn’t scream awkward. But then again, if not for Mingyu, he wouldn’t even be here, so, fuck. Wonwoo groans. The cheap alcohol is getting to his head.

“Ah, youth.” Wonwoo says dryly, when a boy standing on the coffee table smashes a beer can on his head. Minghao’s snickering, but then the boy turns around and it’s Mingyu, and his face falls comically as he mumbles a disappointed “oh shit”.

“Please don’t leave me.” Wonwoo pleads, hugging Minghao’s arm. Minghao’s lips quirk up, amused at Wonwoo’s (sadly) futile attempt to keep him by his side.

“That is a very noble attempt to act cute, and it would work, but I must go stop my boyfriend before he embarrasses himself in front of the entire school. Or worse, embarrasses me.”

Wonwoo pouts, but lets go of Minghao’s arm.

“I’ll be back soon,” Minghao calls back as he snakes his way through the throngs of people. But they both know he won’t be. Judging from the way Mingyu’s lurching around, he’s just a bit away from either blacking out or puking his guts out, so Wonwoo sighs and mourns the loss of his companion. He downs the rest of the liquid in his cup and fiddles with his phone uncomfortably. Twenty two years of existence and Wonwoo still hasn’t mastered the art of the casual, cool facade when no one’s talking to you, when you don’t know what to do, but don’t care all together. He slips his phone into his pocket and slinks over to the kitchen. If he is going to be deprived of a comfortable movie night, he might as well fill his stomach with as much greasy party food as he can.

He’s in the middle of chewing a dubiously cooked Hot Pocket (how can it be both hot and cold at the same time?) when a boy with silver hair asks, “Hot Pocket or Pop Tart?”

It takes Wonwoo a few seconds to realise that the boy’s addressing him. Hastily, he swallows, brushes the crumbs from the corner of his mouth and replies, “uh, Pop Tart, definitely. Cold jam filling over cold tomato sauce, any day.”

The boy laughs, then picks up a strawberry Pop Tart.

“You have saved me from my microwaved pastry dilemma,” he says with a mock bow.

Trying to think of something witty to say, Wonwoo opens his mouth, but the boy’s already left, so he just closes it again like an idiot. When he’s finished his underwhelming meal consisting of one undercooked Hot Pocket, three soggy chicken nuggets and a fistful of potato chips, he glances up from his phone and scans the room for his friends.

“Yo, you’re Wonwoo, right?” A guy Wonwoo’s never seen in his life taps on his shoulder. This is precisely why Wonwoo likes to keep a safe distance away from parties. In one night, he’s already been forced to converse with two strangers, two more than necessary.

“Yes,” he replies, though it comes out more like a question.

“Cool, Mingyu’s asking for you in the bathroom.” The guy jerks a thumb towards some hallway, and Wonwoo sighs and makes his way over, wondering once again why he’d let Mingyu become such a big part of his life.

He finds his idiot of a roommate lying on the floor of the bathroom (gross), whining something incoherently. Wonwoo quickly snaps a picture to commemorate his disgrace before kneeling down beside Mingyu.

“Wonwoo,” Mingyu coos, poking his cheek with a wet finger (gross).

“Where’s Minghao?” Wonwoo grunts, heaving Mingyu up to a sitting position.

“Here, unfortunately.” Minghao grumbles as he enters the bathroom, clutching a plastic water bottle in his hand. Minghao forces some water down Mingyu’s throat, while Wonwoo carefully cups water from the tap to wash Mingyu’s face.

It feels like hours before they finally get Mingyu to get up from the floor. When he’s finally settled in an armchair, hugging a pillow to his chest, loopy smile on his face, Wonwoo sighs. Fuck Mingyu and his low alcohol tolerance and heavy ass, Wonwoo had actually broken into a sweat from the sheer effort of taking care of his drunk self. He makes a vague gesture to the door and Minghao nods in understanding.

Outside, the weather is cool and crisp, that sweet spot where it’s cold but not bitingly so, air dry but not stripping his skin of moisture. Wonwoo huffs out a small puff of air and finds a quiet corner. He’s pretty sure there’s a couple making out in the bushes, but he decides to close one eye and ignore the sounds. New Year’s, he thinks, the time for fresh starts, meeting new people and trying new things. He lets the thought linger in his mind for a while, before he shakes it out and pulls a cigarette out. The warmth of the smoke thaws his fingers slightly. He’d never been big on holidays and occasions.

“Got a spare one?”

Wonwoo exhales. Prepares himself for an unwanted conversation with yet another stranger, cracks open an eye, only to meet the silver-haired boy from earlier’s gaze. Their fingertips brush when Wonwoo hands him his cigarette, warm against cold. The boy pats his back pockets, then his front pockets. Sheepish grin on his face, he opens his mouth. Wonwoo obliges before the question’s out of his mouth, flicking his lighter to light the cigarette between his lips.

“Thanks.” The boy blows out a cloud of smoke. From the corner of his eye, Wonwoo stares. With the silver hair, the eyeliner, the easy smile playing on his lips (and is that glitter on his cheeks?), he certainly doesn’t seem the kind to be hiding away in the shadows outside the party. In fact, he seems like the kind to be smack in the centre of the party, shouting and singing and dancing.

“Needed some air. Got too crowded.” The boy explains, turning to grin at Wonwoo. Instantly, Wonwoo’s eyes flick away.

“Oh, yeah. Sweaty, too.” Wonwoo snorts. For some reason, the boy laughs at that, a genuine giggle, not the awkward fake chuckle one does to fill silences. Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, smiling himself. They continue smoking in silence, and it’s surprisingly peaceful, until someone from inside yells that the countdown’s about to start.

“Well, that’s my cue.” The boy drops the cigarette butt on the dirt, stamping it out, and Wonwoo crinkles his nose in slight disapproval. Not that he’s about to berate this stranger, but Wonwoo has a thing against people who litter. The boy bends down, picking up the extinguished cigarette butt and slipping it into his pocket. He looks back up at Wonwoo, grinning again. “Come with?”

Wonwoo blinks in confusion, then shakes his head.

“Suit yourself. Happy new year!”

“It appears you are ten seconds too early,” Wonwoo deadpans, and the boy winks.

“Eight seconds too early, you mean.” He rushes back into the house, just in time to join the crowd as they shout “seven”. 

And that is how Wonwoo welcomes the new year. Alone (even the couple in the bushes had scrambled back into the house for the countdown) and slightly cold (he blows on his fingers now to warm them up).

**4\. Make new friends.**

_New year, new encounters. It’s good to put yourself out there, isn’t that what youth is about, after all?_

It’s not that Wonwoo’s cynical or anything. He recognises and to a certain extent, can understand the excitement of ushering in a new year. It’s just that his life has always been same old, same old, so while it’s all fun and games to pretend things are going to change, Wonwoo knows the 1st of January will be like the 31st of December, will be like the 30th of December, will be like the 29th of December, you get the idea. For all of Mingyu’s earnestness and Minghao’s romanticising, nobody’s managed to prove him wrong yet.

The new semester brings with it more dreary lectures and dry textbooks; Wonwoo immerses himself in it as always. _Nerd_ , Mingyu complains whenever he and Minghao head out and Wonwoo’s still at his desk. Wonwoo supposes he _is_ a nerd, but what can he say, he genuinely enjoys learning and studying. It’s almost imperceptible, how the hours can fly pass when he’s fully focused on something, so it’s no surprise that the first few weeks of the semester go by without anything out of the ordinary.

Until today, that is, when Mingyu, bless his nagging, extroverted heart, had convinced him to eat lunch out on campus. They’re chewing on subpar subs at a picnic table, mocking the overweight pigeons that hop about, when a voice shouting _Kim Mingyu_ interrupts them. Mingyu has exactly 2 seconds to prepare himself before a figure smothers him in a bear hug. Wonwoo’s used to this, people he’s never met before coming up and talking to Mingyu, except this time he recognises the figure.

“Hey! Party boy!” His roots have grown out, hair a blend of black and silver.

“Party boy?!” Mingyu and Wonwoo repeat incredulously.

“I have never, not once, in my entire life, heard Wonwoo referred to as ‘party boy’,” Mingyu teases and earns a punch in the arm. “Soonyoung, this is my roommate Wonwoo. Wonwoo, Soonyoung.”

“We’ve met!” The boy, Soonyoung, chirps, sliding onto the bench opposite Wonwoo. Great. Mingyu cocks his head in curiosity, asking for an explanation Wonwoo’s too lazy to give but Soonyoung’s happy to offer.

“Ugh, you guys met while _smoking,_ ” Mingyu shudders, “you know I hate when you smoke, Wonwoo.”

Beside Mingyu, Soonyoung turns his attention to Wonwoo, who suddenly feels put on the spot. But Soonyoung’s laughing eyes on him aren’t intimidating, they just make him squirm a little. “Yes, Wonwoo. What a nasty habit.”

“I was only smoking to relieve the stress I got from trying to stop drunk you from pissing everywhere.” Wonwoo pulls a face at Mingyu, then at Soonyoung, “also _hypocrite._ ”

Mingyu has the decency to duck his head in embarrassment, Soonyoung just clutches his chest and gasps dramatically. “Hurtful!”

“ _Hurtful!_ ” Wonwoo repeats childishly. He doesn’t quite know why he does that. He’s rarely this immature with new people, keeps this stupid side of him for his family and friends to see, but something about the light in Soonyoung’s eyes and his quick smile makes Wonwoo want to be weird and funny and interesting.

“ _Hurtful!”_ Soonyoung mocks back, and Wonwoo laughs.

As it turns out, Mingyu and Soonyoung are in the same sociology class, and Soonyoung develops a habit of dropping by their apartment a lot, always complaining about needing Mingyu’s help with the homework, the readings, the projects, something or the other. And at first, Wonwoo’s a little irritated by it all. His apartment is where he feels most comfortable, after all, and the ever-present possibility of Soonyoung visiting without warning means Wonwoo can’t wear his embarrassing pyjama pants and faded, too-stretched-out shirts around. But Wonwoo admits that Soonyoung, with his loud laughter and lame jokes, is too likeable a person to not grow on you, and he finds that somewhere along the way, another person has wormed his way into Wonwoo’s tiny social circle.

Soonyoung always bursts into their apartment, bouncing with energy as if he’s got a huge announcement to make. Wonwoo rubs his eyes blearily. He’s aware that he looks like a mess right now, crazy bedhead and red eyes.

“Jesus, were you smoking weed?” Soonyoung asks, then dissolves into a fit of giggles when Wonwoo gives him a blank, unimpressed face. It is eight in the morning and way too early for any of this.

“Mingyu’s not in,” he mumbles, shutting the door and shuffling back to his room.

Soonyoung, flopping onto their lumpy couch, replies, “That’s okay!”

Wonwoo stops in his tracks and eyes Soonyoung warily. “I’m not going to help you with your work. Or whatever it is you need Mingyu for this time.”

“I don’t need anything from Mingyu.” Soonyoung continues cheerily, sorting through the newspapers strewn across the coffee table. “I’m just here to hang out!”

Soonyoung looks up at Wonwoo then, eyes bright, and Wonwoo wonders how anyone can have this much energy at this time. “Why must you hang out in my apartment at the crack of dawn?”

“My roommate’s always pissy. He says I’m too noisy, I don’t see it, really. And it isn’t dawn. It’s eight.”

His warm bed is unbelievably tempting, but Soonyoung is here and he is waiting on their couch and he came for Wonwoo, so Wonwoo lets out a long-suffering sigh.

“Fine, but let me brush my teeth first.”

When Wonwoo emerges from the bathroom, Soonyoung has already booted up Mingyu’s secondhand Nintendo Switch, the demonic jingle of Mario Kart playing. _Okay_ , Wonwoo had been tired and seconds away from falling back asleep, but Mario Kart has a certain effect on people.

He settles down next to Soonyoung, whose black hair has mostly grown out. Black hair looks nice on him, Wonwoo thinks distantly.

“You can’t possibly be desperate enough to turn to me to hang out.” Wonwoo remarks, picking up the controller and picking his character. Princess Peach, always.

Soonyoung perks up and begins customising his settings. “Why would you say that?”

“Because, well, I’m boring. There’s absolutely nothing going on in my life. Nothing to talk about. Nothing to do.” Wonwoo says in a matter-of-fact voice, now browsing the different race courses. “And I’m quiet. I don’t really ‘hang out’ with people. Not in an _oh, you should take pity on me_ way, by the way."

Beside him, Soonyoung tilts his head to regard Wonwoo curiously. Wonwoo’s prepared to ignore him, but several seconds pass and Soonyoung’s. Still. Looking. It makes Wonwoo’s skin prickle. He turns and narrows his eyes at Soonyoung, questioning. “You’re not boring, Wonwoo. You’re plenty interesting! That’s why we’re friends.”

Wonwoo wrinkles his nose in amusement. “Plenty interesting? Who _says_ that?”

Soonyoung ignores him. “And anyway, being quiet is a good thing. You’re like, the cool, mellow friend. You balance me out, because we both know I can talk enough for the both of us.”

That’s true, Wonwoo rolls his eyes. Soonyoung does talk a lot. Even if “cool, mellow friend” is the dumbest description he’s ever heard.

Mingyu comes back to Wonwoo and Soonyoung screeching at the screen.

“Motherfucker!” Wonwoo yells, as he swerves to avoid Soonyoung’s banana peel. Soonyoung cackles and speeds ahead. They’re both wholly focused, eyes glued to the screen, and this must be a scene for Mingyu to return to, two of them screaming, Wonwoo still in his pyjamas, Soonyoung’s one hand attempting to cover Wonwoo’s eyes.

“No fair! No one told me about the Mario Kart tournament!” Mingyu cries out, dropping his bag and rushing over.

“Fuck off!” Wonwoo hollers when Mingyu blocks the screen, and Soonyoung just loses it.

“You are so funny.” He gasps, clutching his stomach. Wonwoo laughs too, a loud, hearty laugh that scrunches his face up and clears his mind.

“And you are a loser,” he says smugly when his Princess Peach comes in first place.

It’s only after Soonyoung leaves that Wonwoo register it had been the first time the two of them hung out without Mingyu.

**3\. Quit smoking.**

_This, I really hope our dear students can stick to! What a positive resolution to set for the new year. To all our listeners looking to quit or thinking of quitting smoking, this is a sign! You can do it! We are supporting you!_

_Also, this is a timely reminder that our college runs a brilliant programme to help smokers quit. Not sponsored, but highly recommended. Good luck!_

“You can’t keep expecting me to give you free drinks, Wonwoo. You’re going to get me fired.” Minghao grumbles as he slams a cup of coffee on Wonwoo’s table. Minghao’s made him an iced latte today, flavour to be confirmed. Arms crossed, Minghao stands by the booth, frowning slightly, but waiting anyway for Wonwoo to taste said free drink.

Wonwoo gives Minghao his sweetest smile and takes a sip. Mm, hazelnut. “You’re the best.”

Minghao just rolls his eyes and walks away, but Wonwoo doesn’t miss the smirk on his face. Humming happily, Wonwoo turns back to his books. Exam season treats them all differently. Mingyu stress-cooks, and then stress-eats. It’s a particularly convenient consequence of midterms, because it means every time Wonwoo returns to the apartment, he’s greeted by a home cooked meal, and he doesn’t have to survive off instant meals like other college students do. Minghao stays calm and collected as always, somehow managing to juggle between his part-time job, his studies _and_ his unexpectedly active social life. Wonwoo has no idea how Minghao hasn’t already combusted from all his commitments, but that’s Minghao for you, annoyingly good at everything he does. Wonwoo himself turns into somewhat of a hermit, perpetually hunched over his notes, pen in one hand, coffee in the other. Normally, he’s the kind to box himself up in his room, but ever since he realised Minghao’s able to secretly slip him free drinks at the cafe, Wonwoo has never turned back. Instant coffee has never tasted so awful.

And Soonyoung, well, Wonwoo’s learning Soonyoung’s exam habits. They’ve started studying together, which is weird because Wonwoo likes to study alone. (Then again, he seems to have a particularly hard time saying no to Soonyoung, who wriggles his way into Wonwoo’s plans one way or another.) Soonyoung handles exams in a very Soonyoung way, that is to say, with energy. Almost too much energy, Wonwoo thinks fondly. The other day Soonyoung had persuaded Wonwoo to take not one, not two, but four walks around campus when they were supposed to be studying. And he has this strangely endearing habit of bobbing his head about as he studies.

“You look tired AF.” Soonyoung says as a greeting, sliding into the booth.

Wonwoo glances up briefly from his textbook, nodding a hello. “Did you just say ‘AF’ out loud?”

“Yes. And what about it?”

Rudely, Soonyoung pulls Wonwoo’s glasses off, which forces Wonwoo to look up at Soonyoung properly. He’s wearing an oversized hoodie today, a thick, black one that looks impossibly cosy, and a characteristic playful grin. Wonwoo would really like to get back to studying, but the way Soonyoung’s smiling at him is reminiscent of a puppy waiting to play, so Wonwoo decides Korean literature can be put on hold for a moment. “Yes?”

“What you need, Jeon Wonwoo, is to rest your eyes. Trust me, I have very wise sources. AKA the lady who teaches my mum yoga in the park every morning.” Soonyoung puts Wonwoo’s glasses on, and Wonwoo must say the wire-rimmed lenses frame his face very agreeably. It’s cute for a moment, but then Soonyoung scrunches his face up and pushes the glasses up into his hair. “Jesus, you are blind.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes. “Can I have them back now?”

“No! Not until you rest eyes properly! You’ve got to massage around them. To, like, reset your chakra.” Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at Soonyoung. “Trust me, I watched Avatar!”

The glint in Soonyoung’s eyes makes Wonwoo think there is absolutely 0.01% credibility in Soonyoung’s words. Wonwoo leans his cheek on a closed fist and rolls his eyes again—it’s a problem, really, how much he does this around Soonyoung, he’s probably overworking the ligaments and muscles holding his eyeballs in his eye sockets, one of these days they’ll fall right out when Soonyoung cracks a bad joke. “Alright, oh mighty Avatar. How might I reset my chakra?”

“Close your eyes.” Soonyoung orders with the self-important authority of a three year old; Wonwoo obeys.

Soonyoung presses warm fingers to Wonwoo’s temples, drawing little circles. It feels…nice, actually, and Wonwoo, unaware, leans into Soonyoung’s touch. The warmth travels to below Wonwoo’s eyes, light pressure on his eyebags, then Soonyoung’s tugging on the corners of his eyes, and Wonwoo’s eyes are pulled open to meet Soonyoung holding back a giggle. “You have absolutely no idea what you’re doing.”

“Can you two stop moulding your faces like PlayDoh. Some of us find it unseemly.” Minghao sweeps by with a tray of empty cups in his hand and a pained expression on his face. His sarcasm is the tipping point for Soonyoung, who lets loose the laughter he’s been holding in, and Wonwoo reaches over the table to snatch his glasses back.

“Okay, okay, let’s focus.”

And they do, for a good hour, which, all things considered, is a decent amount of time spent concentrating when you’re running on three hours of sleep, nursing a growing headache and sitting across the world’s most fidgety study partner. To give Soonyoung some credit, the interruption to their studying isn’t his fault this time. It’s Minghao, who slams his hands on their table, face pinched with annoyance. Wonwoo gives him his best sympathetic look. Exam season was always busy at the cafe, what with the fully occupied seats and constant stream of students looking for a quick coffee fix.

“My coworkers are useless.” Minghao declares darkly, running a hand through his hair. “I need a break.”

Soonyoung takes this as his cue for _his_ break, which means Wonwoo has no choice but to take this as his cue for _his_ break, and soon they’re all sitting on the bench kept at the back of house. It’s a small, well-worn bench reserved for the baristas to take a break away from the hustle of the kitchen, and Wonwoo would find it lovely had it not been positioned right next to a huge dumpster.

Wonwoo lights a cigarette. On his left, Minghao’s ranting about the other baristas and their lack of initiative and laziness. On his right, Soonyoung’s reacting animatedly to his story with the appropriate responses, groaning and cursing at the right intervals. Wonwoo takes a long drag. He’s trying to listen, honest, he gets the gist of what Minghao’s saying, it’s just that he is sleep-deprived, head swimming with facts about stuffy old Korean philosophers; not to mention this bench is _too_ small and his shoulder is pressed up against Soonyoung’s. And Minghao’s, his mind adds belatedly.

“I swear sometimes I just want to punch Seokmin square in the face,” Minghao wrings his hands. “But he’s so fucking nice that I _can’t_.”

“You could give him a light tap on the head!” Soonyoung offers helpfully, making them all laugh. 

Wonwoo, down to the last few centimetres of his cigarette, puffs out a small ring of smoke. It’s funny, Wonwoo isn’t sure when Soonyoung became friends with Minghao. He’s pretty sure they met for the first time last week, and Soonyoung’s already all warm and friendly with him. Under heavy eyelids, Wonwoo watches now as Soonyoung leans over him into Minghao, looking him straight in the eye and hanging onto every word, and Minghao gets more and more animated, feeding off Soonyoung’s attention. It’s in Soonyoung’s nature; he connects with people with a smoothness, an ease, such that when you meet him, you’re enthralled by him, drawn into his magnetic field. Wonwoo knows this firsthand, and not a day goes by where he’s not envious of this and irritated by his own clumsy emulation. 

Minghao stands up and straightens his apron and walks back in wearily. “Okay, see y’all. Inside. I suppose.”

Right, they’ve wasted enough time milling about. Wonwoo’s about to flick his cigarette into the dumpster when Soonyoung plucks it from his lips with deft fingers.

“Nasty habit, Wonwoo.” Soonyoung chides, eyebrow raised in a mischievous, almost wicked expression. Before Wonwoo can conjure a comeback, Soonyoung sticks the cigarette between his lips and makes a big show of taking one last drag, stamping it out, then throwing it in the bin.

Wonwoo blinks slowly at Soonyoung’s back as he heads back into the cafe.

Small, stupid smile playing on his lips, he leans back, eyes on the sky, and sighs. If his heartbeat had stuttered inexplicably then, that was for him and only him to know. He follows Soonyoung back in.

**2\. Fall in love.**

_Aww, this is so sweet! I think this might be my favourite of them all. For those looking for it, maybe this will be the year! The year you let go of your past, your fears, whatever’s holding you back, to find love and find a home._

_Easy, there. A romantic at heart, are we?_

When Wonwoo’s exams end, he finally feels as if he can breathe easy. The break ahead is promising. He’s going back to stay with his parents, both of whom he hasn’t seen in so long, he’s gotten used to missing them. His self-imposed video game ban is obviously lifted, and there’s a new one he’d been meaning to check out for a while. He’s even looking forward to meeting his high school friends; actually anticipating the awkward, rough-around-the-edges reunions they will undoubtedly organise in painfully nostalgic locations. And time to kill with new friends, too, Wonwoo thinks of Mingyu, Minghao and Soonyoung fondly. Strange, how he’s spent every day with them for months, yet when given a break from them, his mind jumps to them anyway.

“What are you daydreaming about? Let’s go!” Soonyoung gives a battlecry-like roar, pushing Wonwoo through the doors of god-knows-whose house. This feels oddly familiar, Wonwoo thinks dryly, but he lets himself be bossed around by Soonyoung. It’s time to celebrate, after all, Wonwoo had worked especially hard this semester, and a party may actually be what he needs. When Soonyoung had first suggested the party, namedropping a Chwe Hansol (not that the name had rung a bell), Wonwoo had spent a fair bit of time whining about the disaster his last house party had devolved into.

“Aw, please, Wonwoo, I promise I won’t ditch you like Minghao. Please, please, please, please, please.” And a thousand more ‘please’s that had Wonwoo rolling his eyes and kicking him to shut up.

Wonwoo admits, house parties are pretty different when you’re with someone like Kwon Soonyoung. Sure, Wonwoo’d thought he knew about extroverted people and their tendency to attract attention, having clung to Mingyu for the past two years. And while there certainly are similarities, Soonyoung’s popularity isn’t quite like Mingyu’s. Mingyu’s all greeting friends he’d made in the corridors of school, earnestly remembering people Wonwoo would have brushed off as irrelevant, drawing adoring attention. Soonyoung’s all fierce friendliness, making friends on the spot and sharing intimately embarrassing stories already, hugging them and jumping around to the beat of trashy music. It’s different, and wildly out of Wonwoo’s admittedly tiny comfort zone, but Soonyoung makes it a point to include Wonwoo every step of the way, and Wonwoo finds himself laughing with these wild-eyed, noisy strangers, basking in the unique glory of short-lived, no-strings-attached friendships.

This is Soonyoung in his element, really, Wonwoo thinks he hasn’t seen him shine as much as he does now, charming strangers and winning their affection in two sentences, effortlessly cool yet ready to poke fun at himself, attention-seeking yet attentive to others.

The word Wonwoo’s looking for is _infectious_ , that’s what Soonyoung is, his excitement and cheer rolling off him in waves. What can Wonwoo do, really, but give in?

The night passes like a montage in a coming-of-age film starring an ensemble of C-list actors. Through the haze of cheap alcohol, what Wonwoo knows is this: there is a lot of dancing, shirts clinging to sticky skin, Soonyoung’s laughing eyes, lips shouting in his ear to be heard. And he sees a Kim Mingyu somewhere along the way, wide-eyed but gleeful when he spots Wonwoo.

“I can’t believe Jeon Wonwoo’s at a party, and he wasn’t dragged here by me.” Mingyu shouts over the noise, slinging an arm around him.

“I was still dragged here against my will,” Wonwoo complains. “Just by Soonyoung, this time.”

Mingyu smiles at him. “But you look like you’ve been having fun.”

“I’m okay, I guess. This party isn’t half bad, the people aren’t as rowdy as last time,” Wonwoo makes it a point to give Mingyu a look at this part, “and the food’s not terrible. Wow, this semester has changed me. I’m a party animal now.” He deadpans the last sentence, and smiles when his joke achieves the desired effect. Mingyu leans away from him, runs his fingers through his hair and gives him a soft smile.

“I mean in general, not just tonight.” Cryptic statements don’t suit Kim Mingyu, who’s more of a hit it straight to your face kind of guy. Wonwoo wrinkles his brow. “Don’t look at me like that! I’m saying something touching and heartwarming and being the best best friend ever. You’re happy! And I’m happy!”

Wonwoo nods slowly, still looking at his friend bizarrely.

“I’m happy because you’re happy, in case that wasn’t already clear. I mean, I’m happy because of other things too, but that is a _key_ factor in my happiness lately. Because you’re always mopey and stuck in your room gaming and it’s just, a nice change, you know?” Mingyu’s rambling now, his stupid mouth running on and on and being endearing when he’s supposed to be playing the part of the annoying best friend. Wonwoo feels a sudden wave of affection for him, so he expresses it the way he knows best—a lovely nudge of his shoulder.

Wonwoo is officially sufficiently drunk that the world’s tilting a little, even as he’s seated. Somehow, he and Soonyoung managed to agree amongst all the noise, that they needed to get out. So they’re sitting on stools by a roadside stall, the wind slapping the plastic curtains against each other. The table they’re sharing is a little too small, a little too low, their knees bumping together the moment either of them shifts. At one point, Soonyoung knocks his knee against the tabletop and Wonwoo spills the soup he’d been spooning into his mouth. It’s not funny in the least bit, but they laugh anyway, giddy with the high of beginnings and endings coming full circle, the unbridled joy of being in the company of someone you care about, and who cares about you. And suddenly Wonwoo’s laughter dies in his throat. Suddenly the uncle stops chopping the soondae, the plastic curtains stop flapping, the spilled soup is not funny and Wonwoo is strikingly sober. How silly it is to realise you’re a little in love when you’re seated at an unnamed, nondescript roadside stall. Opposite him, Soonyoung’s too far gone to even notice, still giggling, cheeks soft and flushed. Wonwoo has always liked that about Soonyoung—how he laughs easily, how his face scrunches up when he does, how he makes others feel important, how he makes Wonwoo feel like he’s the centre of his attention.

He swallows, takes a steadying breath. It is a sudden realisation in a sudden bout of clarity that leaves as quickly as it comes, but perhaps because the alcohol is still coursing through his veins, Wonwoo finds it a realisation unexpectedly easy to accept. It travels from his chest and settles somewhere in his gut, a secret that warms him up from within, much like the soup he’d clumsily dribbled on the table. He looks down at his bowl of soup, lets his goofy grin grow on his face instead of smothering it down.

And when they walk back to Wonwoo’s apartment, they walk in winding, curving lines, bumping shoulders then parting, then bumping again. It’s all very strange and very natural at the same time, and Wonwoo’s head is spinning.

“Just stay over,” he mumbles, “Mingyu’s going to crash at Minghao’s, anyway.” He fumbles with the keys to the apartment, forehead resting against the door. Soonyoung hooks an arm in Wonwoo’s free one, humming a song, something corny and silly.

“Is it lumpy couch time?” Soonyoung asks, leaning his cheek on Wonwoo’s shoulder. Soonyoung’s dark hair tickles Wonwoo’s chin, feathery light and smelling like mint, and Wonwoo drops his keys.

“Fuck.” He laughs, lurching down to retrieve them. “Anything you want, Soonyoung. It’s always up to you.”

Soonyoung bends down to help him with the keys, and their faces are uncomfortably close. Wonwoo swears he can see the individual pieces of glitter on Soonyoung’s cheeks. It’s so fucking stupid, and cliched, and _gross,_ Wonwoo’s screaming in his already pounding head, at least Soonyoung isn’t staring into his eyes like some moon-eyed idiot; he’s too busy searching for the keys on the ground (Wonwoo’s already picked them up), but it’s bad enough, it’s bad enough, it’s bad enough.

Finally, Soonyoung looks at Wonwoo. His eyes are barely open now, a peaceful sort of smile on his face. The hair Soonyoung had spent so long blow-drying into place earlier now falls softly into his eyes and unthinkingly, Wonwoo brushes it aside with light fingers. This catches his attention, and Soonyoung’s eyes widen slightly. “You’re just the cutest, Wonwoo. So cute and so…great.” He finishes dumbly.

It’s basically a reflex, like someone’s yanked on his puppet strings and made him move before he could even register it. It tickles when Soonyoung’s eyes flutter shut against his skin, and Soonyoung’s mouth is warm, like his fingers, like his voice. It barely lasts a few seconds, but in his tipsy state, Wonwoo thinks Soonyoung maybe kisses him back.

Soonyoung pushes Wonwoo back, hand on his chest. “I am a master of playing hard to get, Wonwoo. Lumpy couch it is.”

“Lumpy couch it is,” Wonwoo echoes, throat dry, eyes still on Soonyoung’s mouth. He licks his lips. Soonyoung copies him.

He wakes the next day at exactly 12.17pm, when Mingyu and Minghao knock on the door. Wonwoo drags himself out of bed, tongue like a piece of cardboard in his mouth, and curses Mingyu for forgetting his keys. It is only after he lets his friends in that the previous night comes back to him, which is when his stare darts to the empty couch. He gets his explanation before he can feel too disappointed, though, when Mingyu reads off a sloppily written note left on their kitchen table.

**Had 2 rush off 2 meet a prof. See u soon!!!!! Oh and i made breakfast 4 u.**

The note’s accompanied with a weird doodle of a stickman with a smiling tiger head and a bowl of soggy Cheerios, milk all soaked up. It puts a goofy smile on Wonwoo’s face.

“Jesus, Soonyoung is stupid.” Mingyu grumbles, stirring the soggy, room-temperature cereal with a spoon Soonyoung had helpfully provided. Wonwoo squeezes his eyes shut, uses his hand to cover his moronic smile, and opens them again. Mingyu eyes him warily. “Why are you smiling at me like that? What do you have planned, Wonwoo? I warn you, I am too hungover to deal with anything crazy.”

“I am in a predicament, Kim Mingyu, and seeing as you basically caused my predicament, you are therefore obliged to help get me out of it.” Wonwoo grabs Mingyu by the shoulders. “And Minghao can help, because he’s here and he’s smart.”

“Alright, alright. But can you take a shower first? You smell like sour alcohol.”

“Right, let me get this straight. You go to your first house party in months, you magically have your sexual awakening, and I _wasn’t_ around to see it?” Minghao doubles over, snickering, at Mingyu’s incredulous, betrayed tone.

Wonwoo draws his knees up to his chest, feeling very small and judged by his best friends. “And I may or may not have kissed him.”

Mingyu shrieks. It sounds like what Wonwoo imagines a pterodactyl would sound like.

“This is _not_ a joke, you guys. This is a real problem, and Mingyu, _you_ introduced me to him, so you…you have to take responsibility for it!” He’s aware that his voice gets a little shrill at the end. It’s humiliating.

Minghao rolls his eyes. “This is far from a real problem, you big baby.”

“It is,” Wonwoo says pitifully, sounding rather crestfallen. “Because I’m me, and he’s…he’s Soonyoung! He’s all wow! And pow! And bam! And everyone likes him.”

“First of all, we need to work on your vocabulary. Second of all, everyone likes him, _yes_ , but everyone who gets to know you likes you, too!” Minghao reasons, poking Wonwoo in the shoulder. “At the very least, Soonyoung definitely likes you.”

“You don’t know that. No one will know that until I tell him and by then it’ll be too late to turn back.”

“You guys literally kissed.”

“We were drunk! And Minghao, I am not appreciating your tone right now."

Mingyu flops down next to Wonwoo, eyes tired but kind. “There is no way Soonyoung doesn’t like you. You are too smart to be this dense, Jeon Wonwoo. Think about it.” He takes out his phone and begins tapping through Instagram idly. He shoves his phone in Wonwoo’s face. A picture of him and Soonyoung last night on Soonyoung’s Instagram story, someone at the party must have taken it for them with shaky hands—the photo’s blurry and grainy but Wonwoo can see the smiles on their faces. “Cute,” Mingyu smirks.

So Wonwoo does think about it. He replays the timeline of their friendship in his head, reeling it back to the start. He thinks about the mischief in Soonyoung’s eyes, soft hair and soft hoodies, how no one laughs as hard at Wonwoo’s lame jokes. Then he thinks about warm fingers and a shared cigarette and raised eyebrows and he covers his face. This is too much for Wonwoo’s feeble, shut-in self to handle.

  1. **Be happy.**



_Folks, we’ve come to the last, most popular resolution. Short, simple, poetic. I’ve got to say, Hansol, I love it. The hope! The positivity! Good things will come!_

_Alright, thanks for the theatrics, Seungkwan. To all our listeners, this has been it for our New Years’ Eve special. Here’s the final song of 2020. Let’s all be happy! See you in the new year._

Wonwoo has been in many an uncomfortable situation. At this point, he’s basically embraced it as his identity. Sewn the word ‘awkward’ into the seams of his clothes. But his countless awkward encounters have done nothing to prepare him for this moment, which Wonwoo has (cleverly) dubbed the ‘final boss of uncomfortable’.

The original plan had been to show up at Soonyoung’s apartment and tell him there. He’d tried that yesterday, but when the door’d opened he’d come face to face with his cranky roommate, who’d shooed him away.

Activate plan B, to tell him at _his_ apartment, but after thinking about it, Wonwoo had decided that it was too strange to invite somebody over to confess to them. He gets the sense that _he_ should be the one going to find Soonyoung, and not Soonyoung coming to him.

“Stop being ridiculous. It doesn’t matter where you tell him, or how you tell him. You literally just have to fucking tell him.” Minghao had scolded him, smacking him upside, “okay, I take it back. You can tell him any way you like _except_ a public serenade.” They’d both shuddered then, recalling the absolute cringe fest that only Kim Mingyu could cause.

Which brings Wonwoo to where he is now, hiding behind a tree in the campus greens. Soonyoung’s sitting at a picnic table, he’s been there for a while, actually, since Wonwoo had told him to meet him here. Wonwoo sends a silent apology Soonyoung’s way, but you can’t blame someone for having trouble working up courage to face _the final boss of uncomfortable._

Soonyoung’s wearing an orange beanie today (Wonwoo’s new favourite colour), and he’s tapping away at his phone, clearly unaware of the shit that’s about to go down. Behind his pathetic tree, Wonwoo wishes he could have Mingyu’s thick skin, or Minghao’s cool, impassivity. Instead, his stomach’s a pit and his heart is going wild—this cannot be healthy for his blood pressure.

Somehow, though, he leaves his hiding spot, eyes zeroing in on Soonyoung like he’s a target and Wonwoo’s a hitman; the comparison almost makes him laugh.

“Hello, Soonyoung.” Wonwoo announces when he stops at the table. Soonyoung looks at him amusedly.

  
“Hello, Wonwoo.” He mocks, sticking his hand out for a handshake. “What’s up?”

The sounds of students conversing and eating and laughing. The stain on the wooden table. The dark hair curling out from under the beanie. 

“Okay, I’m just going to say it.” Wonwoo blurts, and the moment the words fall out of his mouth, it’s like all he can focus on is Soonyoung’s bright eyes, because this is it, no going back. “I have a crush on you, Soonyoung.”

Soonyoung’s taunting smile slips from his face instantly, and in its wake is a slack-jawed, wide-eyed stare. “H..hold up. What did you say? I didn’t catch it.”

Wonwoo bites back a smile. Soonyoung’s always been a shitty liar. When he repeats himself, he does so with newfound confidence, not confidence because Soonyoung’s going to fall into his arms, but confidence because what’s done is done, and Wonwoo does not half-ass his way through life. “I have a crush on you.”

And slowly, Soonyoung’s smile returns to his face. A small, bashful one, that grows gradually to an embarrassed, almost blinding grin, and Wonwoo can’t help but smile back, because that’s just what you do when someone as bright as the sun is right in front of you.

“I have a crush on you. Have had one for a while now.” Wonwoo says again, and this time his voice is completely steady and smooth.

“Fuck.” Soonyoung mumbles into his palm. Then again, louder, a yell. “Fuck!”

“Jesus, Soonyoung.” Wonwoo laughs. It’s always laughter around Soonyoung.

“Sorry, oh my god. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to tell me that.” Soonyoung beams, then makes a sort of strangled noise. “Fucking ages. I mean, I thought you liked me. And then I thought we kissed at the party, which is stupid, I know, Jihoon told me I’d probably drunk-fantasised the whole thing, which has happened before—story for another day. But anyway, then Jihoon made me rethink everything, because I’m always looking too hard into things just because I really, really want something to happen. You know?”

Wonwoo feels lightheaded all of a sudden, he could float up into the sky on a single helium balloon right now. He takes a step closer to Soonyoung, who stands up. There’s a stupidly wide grin on Wonwoo’s face right now, it’s dorky and if Minghao were here he’d point and snicker, but there are worse things than being a little dorky. “Shut up, Soonyoung.”

He says one thing, but he means another. He could listen to, no, wants to listen to Soonyoung run his mouth forever, if it meant being by his side, the first to hear his wild stories and the first to gag at his horrible jokes.They balance each other out, after all, words spilling out of Soonyoung’s mouth 24/7, Wonwoo more than happy to listen and retort when it feels right.

“I would kiss you, but we’re in public.” Soonyoung says, licking his lips. “It sucks being the only one with thick skin, huh.”

“Fuck it,” Wonwoo responds, breathless and a little desperate, “just do it.”

Soonyoung’s fingers, warm on his cheek, warm skating along his jaw, and then a kiss sweeter than Mingyu’s snickerdoodles.

Later, when they’re safely tucked away behind closed doors, breathing in air heady with fluttery nerves and anticipation, Soonyoung will tell him that he’s been making excuses to meet Mingyu’s quiet, handsome roommate for months. And Wonwoo will tell him that Soonyoung’s apparently obvious signs had taken too long because Wonwoo is Wonwoo, and he can be slow, and unsure and clumsy when it comes to matters of the heart. When the unsaid words are said, they will kiss again, slow, lazy, but just as sweet. Like they have all the time in the world.

Wonwoo is wholly, heartbursting-ly happy.

**Author's Note:**

> this is v rough & may be edited to include my many soonwoo ideas (unless i write them into other fics..... >:)) so thank you for reading the end product of me losing my mind over svt's comeback! : ) soonyoung is so bright and warm and wonwoo is so loving and supportive and soonyoung brings the light out in wonwoo i- pls share ur soonwoo thoughts w me in the comments i am greatly deprived of soonwoo irls :( :( :( mum i love them :( :( :(


End file.
